No reminder was needed. Every Hunter tensed, lowering their center of gravity slightly as they prepared to meet an attack at any moment.
Altaïr gave Isis the hand signal for "alert." With one hand resting on the hilt of the weapon slung across his back, he slowly approached the strange molt in the center of the great hall.
Isis followed four or five meters behind him, her eyes constantly sweeping their surroundings and the ceiling overhead for any Monster lurking in the shadows.
Altaïr soon reached the molt.
He signaled to Isis again, and she immediately readied her Gunlance and raised her Large Shield to cover his back.
Altaïr crouched down to examine the grayish, desiccated skin.
He first touched it lightly with his fingertips, then pressed down more firmly.
The dead skin was semitransparent and keratinous, several centimeters thick, rough, dry, and hard to the touch.
The molt had split open along the back. Though it was not perfectly intact, its general shape remained clear. It measured roughly twenty meters from head to tail and had a body structure somewhat similar to a Tigrex.
Had that Ghost Dragon left this behind?
As Altaïr considered the possibility, Gordon, who had determined from farther back that there was no immediate danger, released his grip on Alva's shoulder.
Alva sprinted to Altaïr's side and stroked the molt with obsessive fascination written all over his face, muttering uncontrollably, "What is this? What is this...?"
Isis moved two steps closer to bring Alva within her protective range and could not help muttering, "It's dead skin?"
"Of course I know it's skin shed by a living creature!" Alva was unusually agitated. "Many reptiles shed their skin, including most snakes, some species of lizards, and a few kinds of Flying Wyverns.
"But this is different! The texture of this molt is completely different!"
"Snakes and Flying Wyverns alike only shed in places where they feel safe. This is very likely the Ghost Dragon's nest, so please keep your voice down," Altaïr warned him sternly.
"Oh, sorry. I got too excited." Alva immediately lowered his voice and apologized. His hands moved swiftly as he drew a knife and began scraping off flakes for samples.
"Now that I look at it, this molt is very fresh. It can't have been shed long ago..."
"How can you tell?" Altaïr asked urgently.
"It's dry and well ventilated in here. Look, it's even exposed to constant sunlight. A molt would weather quickly under these conditions, yet this one shows very little weathering and even retains some suppleness. It can't have been shed long ago. A few months, perhaps? Half a year at most. Certainly no longer."
Hearing this, Altaïr studied the dry, rough, grayish molt again. He did not know enough to assess how badly something like this had weathered.
Recently shed... If it came from the same individual, then the creature must now be larger than it was when Lady Ithra's group encountered it...
Isis, who held her Gunlance and Large Shield ready while scanning the hall, suddenly noticed something. "Al... Altaïr," she stammered. "There seems to be a person pinned under its head!"
Altaïr frowned and quickened his pace toward the head of the molt.
He soon saw the "person" Isis had mentioned. It was actually a human-shaped stone carving that the obstructed view and awkward angle had made her mistake for someone.
"Did it fall from the ceiling or one of the stone pillars?" The explanation came naturally to Altaïr, but he quickly rejected it.
The carving's color and texture clearly differed from its surroundings. It did not seem to have come from the ancient city's ruins.
"It isn't an artifact of the James civilization," Alva declared after a single glance. "I've seen similar stone carvings in the pyramids of the Misty Peaks. They're used to suppress evil spirits. Who would haul something like this all the way out here for no good reason?"
"Some Ancient Wyverian who lived so long he went senile?" Gordon suggested as he walked over.
Alva pushed up his glasses. "I can't think of any other explanation either. Hm? Wait, there are inscriptions on the carving, and the marks look relatively fresh. They were probably made within the last few months. So a Monster came here, shed its skin, and left. Then an Ancient Wyverian arrived soon afterward, planted a spirit-suppressing stone carving beside the molt, and inscribed something on it?"
"Those fellows may be cryptic and eccentric, but they don't do meaningless things," Gordon said, turning to Alva. "What does it say?"
"I can't see it clearly. Pull it out first." Alva tried to wrench the carving free, but it did not budge.
Altaïr stepped in to help. He lifted the section of the molt pinning the carving just enough for them to drag it out from underneath.
"Let me take a look." Alva crouched beside the carving and pressed his palm against the inscription. "It's written in the Ancient Wyverian language. So an Ancient Wyverian really did leave it here. It reads something like, 'When the pitch-black night sky fills with stars, the dragon that devours the stars shall be born from a rift in hell and bring disaster upon the earth.' That's roughly what it means."
Altaïr spoke up. "A dragon that devours the stars? Could that refer to the Ghost Dragon? There shouldn't be any other powerful creatures around here. Are you certain these words were carved after the statue was brought here?"
"Mm. It's an Ancient Wyverian proverb. Those fellows love warning others in such vague, ambiguous ways. I've encountered this a few times before, and honestly, it has never involved anything minor," Gordon said, staring at the inscription with a deep frown.
Hayata approached. "Do we need to return immediately and report this to the Guild?"
Gordon looked troubled as well. "Logically, we should. But this situation is a little strange. The Ancient Wyverians I've encountered before always sought us out. Their warnings were more direct, deliberate, and timely. This feels more like someone left a note here for any passerby to read. Ancient Wyverians simply live a long time and see a great deal, so they can anticipate certain disasters by recognizing specific signs. They don't possess genuine precognition. They couldn't possibly have predicted months ago that we would come here..."
"Perhaps," Altaïr interjected, "the Ancient Wyverian you encountered wasn't trying to predict when we would arrive or exactly what would happen here.
"Instead, he anticipated an almost inevitable sequence of events, provided, of course, that his information wasn't too outdated..."
Gordon froze for a moment, then understood what Altaïr meant. He gave a quiet "Heh" and said, "That's probably it. You've got a sharp mind, kid."
Alva and Hayata looked as though they understood too, but Isis remained thoroughly bewildered.
It was not that she lacked brains or the ability to think. She simply saw no point in wasting precious brain cells on this kind of "guessing game."
Why not get the answer in the simplest way possible?
She looked at Altaïr. "What do you mean? Say it plainly."
"Simply put, the Ancient Wyverian knew the Guild had sealed this place off. That meant only one kind of person could enter: Hunters like us who met the Guild's standards and had been authorized to enter the restricted zone as High Rank Hunters.
"The message was therefore left for High Rank Hunters who came here to investigate.
"Their arrival would then trigger something, such as a battle with the Ghost Dragon. That conflict might set in motion the calamity mentioned in the Ancient Wyverian's warning.
"In short, he logically deduced how events were likely to unfold."
"But there are always unexpected variables, right? What if someone who didn't know about the Guild's ban, or who simply ignored it, snuck in here looking for treasure? What if they took the stone carving?"
"That possibility is quite real. But according to my research, ever since the Guild designated the Gilgamesh Ancient Ruins a restricted zone, the survival rate among treasure hunters who entered illegally has been zero.
"That's why I've been on high alert for Monster attacks ever since we entered the ancient city."
As he spoke, Altaïr drew Tyrant Blade [Heaven Swallower] from his back. "See? Here it comes."
"Sss... sss..."
With a hair-raising rustle, a great mass of black haze resembling both dust and fog seeped from the gaps between the stone bricks, gathering and spreading as it crept toward them.
* * *
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